


Hot Summer Day

by orphan_account



Series: Tease it [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7207085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a hot summer day and Fiddleford just wanted to bring lemonade to the Stan twins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Summer Day

**Author's Note:**

> It's probably better if you read "What is Seen cannot be Unseen" before this but you don't have to.

It was a sweltering summer day. The kind of day perfect for doing absolutely nothing. Fiddleford was all set for sitting in the kitchen, windows open to let the breeze in, favorite book in hand. Stanley and Stanford were all set for the same plan, lazing about and doing nothing, until they found water guns in one of the numerous unopened boxes around the shack. With a childlike glee they called war on each other, leaving Fiddleford to read his book in relative peace.

It was around lunch time that Fiddleford set down his book. Outside he could hears the screams of pretend war. Conscious of the fact that they had to be outside for hours now with only the hose and some water guns to cool them down, Fiddleford set his mind to getting them a drink. On a hot summer day like this, lemonade sounded perfect. So, Fiddleford made lemonade.

Thirty minutes later, Fiddleford was carrying a tray of lemonade and sandwiches to the back porch. There wasn’t really a table on the back porch; only the lumpy brown couch the twins dragged in from lord knows where, and so Fiddleford tried to balance the tray on the arm of the couch while he distractedly called, “Stan! Ford! I made some lemonade and some sandwiches if ya’ll be wantin’ some.”

The sounds of water pumping stopped and the laughter faded as stomping footsteps made it onto the porch. The lemonade in the tall glass sloshed a bit but thankfully didn’t overflow. Fiddleford, satisfied that the tray was successfully balanced on the arm of the couch, turned to greet his fellows. And then stopped. And gulped.

In front of him was a shirtless, wet Stanley Pines. Behind him was Stanford Pines in a white, equally wet t-shirt. Fiddleford glanced down. They were both in short swimming trunks. Fiddleford felt himself go red in a way that didn’t involve the stifling summer heat.

“Thanks for the drinks Fidds.” Stanley said gratefully before reaching around Fiddleford to grab himself a drink. Fiddleford stood absolutely still as Stanley’s sweating naked torso got closer. Pale white skin, hard-earned muscle, becoming larger and larger; the scent of cologne and wet grass and what could only be the heady sweat pouring from his body…

“Thank you Fiddleford for the refreshments.” Stanford said as he too, reached around Fiddleford for some ice cold lemonade. Fiddleford stayed where he was as Stanford’s very see-through t-shirt brushed against his sides; as little droplets of water landed on his hair from Stanford’s chin, as his very seeable very erect nipples pointed closer.

Both brothers then stood back as they took simultaneous gulps of their drink. Fiddleford tried not to stare at the show the twins were giving; the pale column of their throat bared as they gulped the contents of the lemonade down, both of their eyes closed in obvious bliss.

By the time the twins put their drinks down, twin sighs of contentment pouring from their lips, Fiddleford was determinedly staring into his own tall drink of lemonade that he picked up to distract himself.

“Hey, you even made some sandwiches.” Stanley said, noticing the other thing precariously balanced on the tray. “You’re the best Fidds.” He said as he set down his glass and took one.

“No problem.” Fiddleford muttered into the bendy straw he was drinking from, carefully controlling himself from openly gawking at the twins.

Stanley and Stanford lazed about the porch for some time, making small talk and observations before returning to their water fight. They asked if he wanted to join to which Fiddleford politely declined. It wasn’t until his drink was empty did Fiddleford lift his eyes. And what a sight he saw. Stanley’s rippling muscles and hairy chest for the world to see; also his happy trail. Stanley laughed as he sprayed his brother in the face, his gorgeous teeth glinting in the hot sun as sweat and water dripped off his strong jaw. Stanley turned to better dodge Stanford and Fiddleford could swear Stanley was showing off as he used his nimble feet to dance out of an incoming water gun attack.

Fiddleford’s attention was diverted as Stanford successfully soaked Stanley using what looked like to be a secret weapon. A water gun with six barrels; each somehow able to shoot in sync with highly concentrated streams. Stanford laughed his deep reverberating laugh as his brother got soaked to the bone and then some.

Stanford on the other hand was equally as handsome in other ways. While not as broad in the shoulders or arms as Stanley; Stanford had a wiry frame that suited him, a cleft chin that would somehow disturb without, and eyes that sparkled without his pair of signature glasses, which was the case now. His eyes sparkled as it reflected the spout of water that left his gun, creating rainbows as the sun beamed down. His usual floofy hair was flat against his head creating a sort of wet kitten affect. Cute but deadly.

Fiddleford kind of wanted to lap at the droplets his wet t-shirt was absorbing like a kitten. Lap at both the wet Pines twins. Get them all dry and then get them out of their clothes and into his-

An errant spray of water splashed itself at his feet jolting him from his ogling. “Sorry Fiddleford.” Stanford called out. “I still need to recalibrate this.”

“N-no problem fellas. Just got my shoes wet that’s all.”

“Stop being a lazy Susan and join us Fidds! The water’ll cool you right down.”

“Ha ha.” Fiddleford said, “That’s a good idea, I was just thinkin’ about getting cooled down…buuut I think I’m gonna take a shower instead. Have fun you two.”

It wasn’t until Fiddleford skedaddled inside the house, door closed behind him, that he let out a sigh of relief. That was too close. He should’ve known better to drift off while looking at the incredibly sexy and very off limits Pines twins. Now he had an uncomfortable situation downstairs and a cold shower waiting for him.

Well, at least they didn’t see the bulge in his pants. How embarrassing would that have been to explain.

—-

“Yup.” Stanley said, staring at where Fiddleford retreated. “He definitely had a boner.”

“How do you know?”

“Did you see the way he was walkin’? He either had a boner or something up his ass.”

“Are you sure you should be teasing him like this?” Stanford asked with thinning lips. “We’ve already confirmed he has sexual feelings towards us…”

“Me? What about you Mr. Wet t-shirt?” Stanley reached over to tweak Stanford’s nipple, clearly visible behind said wet t-shirt.

“Stanley!” Stanford said before slapping his brother’s hand away.

“Hey, if me in swimming trunks is considered teasing then you in a wet t-shirt is being double teasing; come on Sixer get with the program.” He said as he pulled at the t-shirt that stuck to his skin like- oh.

“I-that’s not- I don’t-,” Stanford stood flustered for a second, his already sunburnt skin turning more red. “I didn’t consider that as a possibility. Have I been teasing Fiddleford this whole time without knowing?”

Stanley gave Stanford a solemn nod.

“Hey, look at it this way Sixer,” Stanley said as he put an arm around his brother’s hunched shoulders, “Fidds is gonna have a lot more material to work on for the next few weeks.” As socially inept as Stanford was, he had a lot more practice deciphering his brother’s innuendos. The double meaning was not lost on him. He covered his face with his hands as his brother laughed.

“Hey,” Stanley said after Stanford finally brought his hands away from his flaming face, “do you think he’s jerking it to us right now? I mean; he said he was going to the shower; and I’m pretty sure that was a boner walk-”

“Stanley I have to work with him tomorrow!”

“Yeah, and we eat dinner and breakfast across from him every day; get used to it now, I say.”

—————-

Stanford was stiff at the dinner table, head hunched past his shoulders and staring determinedly at his plate of food. All throughout dinner Stanley had been dishing out innuendo after innuendo and without the context of their earlier conversation, Fiddleford was missing most of it.

“Hey,” Stanley said, after a particularly bad one, “where’d you get that bite mark Fidds?”

Stanford looked up at that. Bite marks? Could be from an anomaly. If it was something unnatural Stanford could hopefully steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Oh this?” Fiddleford said. He looked at his right hand to which an indent of teeth from a lower jaw stemmed parallel to the knuckles between his thumb and forefinger and the upper jaw bit down between his middle finger and his ring finger. Fiddleford held it up to the light for a moment contemplating before hurriedly putting it back down. “It’s nothing.”

But Stanford was intrigued. Scooting over Stanford reached up to pick his assistant’s hand. “It doesn’t look like gnome bite marks; too small.” Stanford mumbled to himself. “Too small to be a unicorns. A merman perhaps? It looks very similar to a bite inflicted by a human.”

“That’s because it was.” Fiddleford said, his eyes shifting every now and again. “I, uh, I accidentally fell over…with my hand in my mouth…y’know to block my face from the fall but my hand ended up in my mouth, but y’see the pain was so bad so I bit on it. So, uh…y’see, there’s no mystery whatso-diddly darn-ever!”

Stanford stared at Fiddleford for a second or two before shrugging. Fiddleford had no reason to lie. He was about to scooch back over to his seat and resume his meal when he caught Stanley out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head at him. He stared at his brother irritated before they both caught each other staring.

“I’m gonna get some seconds.” Stanley said as he got up. Except instead of going for seconds, Stanley went behind Fiddleford’s chair and proceeded to play charades.

He pointed at Fiddleford and then to his own right hand. Something about Fiddleford’s bite mark.

He then proceeded to mime turning a knob and then he started rubbing himself in various places- Shower. Something about Fiddleford’s bite mark and a shower.

He then put his right hand in his mouth, in a similar fashion to how Fiddleford probably earned his bite mark, and then proceeded to use his left hand to- to mime-

And then it clicked. Stanley wiggling his eyebrows probably helped. Fiddleford’s bite mark was obtained through the need to be quiet while masturbating in the shower.

“There’s no proof.” Stanford said aloud and then immediately flushed. He stared at Fiddleford who was so close - he really should’ve moved away this was really awkward - and was giving him a look of confusion.

“No proof for what?” Fiddleford asked.

“For…the…No proof for the-” Oh, Stanley was always the better liar. “No proof for the involvement of…There’s just. There’s just no proof Fiddleford.” Yes, that was an adequate lie, right?

Behind Fiddleford, Stanley just shook his head.

“…That didn’t answer my question in the slightest Stanford.”

“Yes, well.” Stanford was going to either die of mortification or strangle Stanley. Either one. “Have fun with the consumption of calories and carbs and what not; I have to go.”

And with that Stanford tactfully retreated the room.

“So,” Stanley said settling back in his chair with a plate of seconds, because he was a growing man of course, “Fidds you want to come with us to the pool tomorrow? The weather says it’s gonna be just as hot as it was today and as much as I love water gun fights, I think I threw out my back or something.”

Fiddleford seemed to think about it for a second. “I don’t know Stanley. You guys know I’m not the best swimmer.”

“Don’t worry Fidds. I’ll teach you the backstroke.”

Stanley patted himself on the back for maintaining such a straight face under Fiddleford’s scrutinization. He knew he should have taken Ford’s advice and lay back on the teasing but watching Fiddleford squirm was just too fun. Ford too, for that matter.

Fiddleford mumbled out a, “Well if it’s no trouble.”

“Great!” Stanley said - and then, just to mess with him a little more- (he was having way too fun with this) he continued in the most suggestive tone he could muster, “Can’t wait to teach you.”


End file.
